and the sun will rise
by hitorlesmis
Summary: Another exhausting day on 'The Dark World' film set, and, back in his flat, Tom has pretty much had it with etiquette.
1. English Gentlemen

CHAPTER 1: ENGLISH GENTLEMEN

Tom lay sprawled on the floor in his flat, wishing fervently that he could stay there for the rest of his life and never get up ever again. Ever. His back ached from the weight of Loki's leather and metal costume. The rest of him ached from the seemingly never-ending fight scenes, the scenes that he and the others acted out again and again and again until, finally, they were deemed convincing. Tom was exhausted; he wanted to melt into the clean wooden floor and sleep for, well, forever sounded rather good right now. And he was convinced he was beginning to suffer from character bleed, feeling himself caring more and more about Loki as a person, the boundaries almost starting to blur between reality and film. It was ridiculous, of course. _The Dark World_ was, he knew, just another superhero movie, though one destined hopefully for mass box office success, but filming it was one of the most intense projects he'd ever taken part in.

Looking sleepily up at the ceiling, Tom reflected that Chris was probably the only person keeping him sane right now. His jokes, his broad smile, his easy kindness, and, just when Tom thought he couldn't, really _couldn't_, take another repetition of that scene, that anger and hatred and bitterness spewing from his, no, from _Loki's_ mouth, the warm hand Chris put on the small of his back.

Tom valued their friendship more than almost anything else. And Chris was the only person he'd ever met who would willingly, without persuasion, cajoling or even bribery, make him tea on a film set. The tea was good too. That was impressive, he thought, for an Aussie.

The sound of the doorbell knocked him from his reverie. Tom tried and failed not to feel annoyed. Though naturally sociable, usually welcoming visitors at almost any hour, at this very moment he couldn't think of anything worse than having to stand up, to walk all the way to the hallway, and to actually expend energy opening the door. Then the smiles, the greetings, the pleasantries, hearing his or her reason for coming right now, tonight, when Tom could barely keep his eyes open. He was sorely tempted to turn his forehead back to the cool wood and simply ignore the insistent doorbell. He or she would probably go away. In the end.

_But_, Tom thought resolutely to himself through sleep's descending fog, _I am British. I am an English gentleman and English gentleman do not sprawl on the floor while visitors shiver outside in cold city air. English gentlemen are good hosts. English gentlemen stand up._ He stood up. (A little slowly perhaps but that, in Tom's opinion, was neither here nor there.) _English gentlemen walk to the front door and open it._ He walked to the front door and opened it. And there, standing on his doorstep with a truly vast pizza box and a six-pack of beer under his arm, was Chris.

_I will not fall into his arms_, thought Tom with gritty determination.

He fell into his arms.

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I LOVE reviews. And I will reply to anything you say: praise, constructive criticism, not so constructive criticism, or even just comments that say 'OH MY GOD THESE TWO' because that is how I feel a lot of the time. Especially when I see those pictures of Tom just staring at Chris. You know the ones.  
Next chapter up very soon! :D


	2. A Brief Interlude on Tom's Doorstep

CHAPTER 2: A BRIEF INTERLUDE ON TOM'S DOORSTEP

Chris was laughing. He was hiding it well, to be fair, hardly making a sound, but the vibrations of his chest under Tom's ear gave him away. Tom sleepily decided to forgive him though, in light of the fact that Chris had dropped both the pizza and the beers on the doorstep to be able to wrap his arms around him.

'You alright, man?' Chris asked gently, beginning to rub Tom's back in slow, warm circles. Tom blinked at the sound, and lifted his head from where it had rested on Chris's shoulder.

'Yes, I, yes,' he replied eloquently. Chris stifled another laugh, and Tom frowned. 'I'm so sorry, Chris.' he said quietly, laying his head back on the other man's shoulder. 'I've just been finding it hard to cope at the moment. With the filming that is. And the fight scenes. And all those changes to the script.'

Chris was silent for a moment. Then Tom felt broad fingers lifting his chin and Chris looked straight at him, blue eyes piercing. 'And character bleed?' he asked quietly.

Tom nodded into his shoulder. 'That too,' he murmured.

Chris held him tighter for a moment, one hand still on Tom's back, the other cupping the back of his head. Then he straightened, throwing one arm round Tom's shoulders. 'Come on, man. We're going go inside and we're going eat seriously huge amounts of pizza and you are, whether you like it or not, going to get very drunk indeed. Then we are going to sit down and talk about Thor and Loki. Got it?'

Tom couldn't help grinning. 'All right. I've got it.'

Chris scooped up the pizza box and beers and pushed Tom inside, kicking his boots off in the hallway as he followed.

x

Again, any reviews very, very much appreciated. Thanks for reading! I shall update very soon. :D


	3. A Ten For Speed

CHAPTER 3: A TEN FOR SPEED

Chris walked into the living room, took a run-up and skidded across Tom's floor, socks sliding on the smooth wood, before crashing at high speed into the sofa. Tom burst out laughing. 'Smooth,' he teased.

Chris smiled broadly as he lay back on the sofa. 'I'd like to see you try,' he grinned, eyes glinting.

'Fine,' said Tom, regretting the word as soon as it came out of his mouth._ It's too late to back out now though_, he thought to himself, and, resigned, retreated to the far corner of the room for a good run-up.

Tom threw himself into the skid, feeling happiness bubble up inside him as he shot across the room. _This is what I love about being friends with Chris. One minute I'll be tired and achy and hungry, and upset about Loki being misunderstood, and the next he turns up and there's pizza and beer and we're sliding around on the floor in our socks and gosh I am moving really rather quickly and this room isn't actually all that big and oh gosh here's the sofa coming right towards me bother I think I may be going to crash and-_

And Chris's warm arms caught him and held him. 'I'll give you a 10 for speed, Tom, though it seems to me steering may be a bit of an issue. As is slowing down.'

Tom was silent. He leant back into Chris, and the other man hoisted him up onto the sofa beside him. 'Are you alright, mate?' Chris asked, face softening. 'It looks to me like you could do with a sleep.'

'I'm not five,' Tom muttered crossly, rolling his eyes and trying valiantly to sit up straight and look highly adult and independent. His traitorous body, though, seemed to view Chris as some kind of living sofa cushion, and left him slumped on the man's shoulder, face pressed against his rather nice pale-blue shirt. _It brings out the colour of his eyes_, Tom thought vaguely. He felt rather floaty.

Then his head was pulled upwards by a large hand and something hot and cheesy dangled in front of his face. 'Second only in its reviving effects to a decent rest, this delicious delicacy will fill your stomach and warm your heart,' pronounced Chris, waving the slice of pizza around. 'Please, eat and be revived.' He shoved the slice closer. 'Eat, man.'

Tom started to laugh. He grabbed the slice of pizza and passed another to Chris, then reached for the beers, finally resuming his place resting on the other man's shoulder. Chris did seem to have a very _comfortable_ shoulder.

And three hours later, the pizza boxes were empty, the beer cans were empty, the ice cream tub that Chris had stolen in an exciting and dangerous raid on the fridge-freezer was empty, the flat was warm, the TV was turned to an old _Star Trek_, and Tom, bare feet now stretched out on Chris's lap, head hanging off the end of the sofa, was out like a light.

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Please, please comment. Pretty please. :) I'd love to hear anything you have to say about the story, whether it's it giving me advice on just talking about Chris and Tom. And thanks for reading! :D 3


	4. The Unimpressed Face

CHAPTER 4: THE UNIMPRESSED FACE

'Tom, hey, Tom.'

A touch on his shoulder. A hand under his head that lifted it back onto the sofa.

'Chris', said Tom, blinking his way to bleary consciousness. 'Sorry, I, gosh, I was just so tired and-'

'It's no problem, man,' Chris interrupted him, smiling brilliantly. 'I picked a movie while you were drooling.'

'I do not _drool_,' Tom began, outraged, before he noticed the quirk at the edge of Chris's mouth that meant he was trying not to laugh. He changed his mind about protesting, deciding for once not to rise to the bait._ Gosh. I feel quite mature and adult. Perhaps I'm finally growing up._

And then Chris knocked him to the floor in some kind of mad rugby tackle, saying, 'You _do_ drool, yes, you _do_,' and Tom was trying to fight back and laugh and stop blushing all at the same time, which turned out to be surprisingly difficult.

And, suddenly, all he could think about while they wrestled was Thor and Loki. How much their messing around felt like the fight scenes, felt like they were Thor and Loki playing Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston instead of the other way around. It was oddly disconcerting.

It must have shown on his face. Chris, pinning Tom to the ground by his chest with one elbow, paused. 'Hey, man, are you-'

And that was when Tom pounced. He shoved both hands underneath Chris and _pushed_ with all his might, and the bigger man, helpless with laughter, rolled off him at last. Tom jumped back onto the sofa, stretching out across its length with some pride. 'You, my friend, are certifiably insane,' he declared, looking into the middle distance and letting his dramatic training show through. 'How you could think that I would perform such an undignified action as _drooling_ is utterly beyond me.'

He expected another attack. He expected laughter, at least. But there was silence. Tom looked down at Chris on the floor and- he wasn't there. Tom looked around the room, bewildered. 'Chris?'

He heard someone giggle from behind the sofa. Or maybe it was more of a manly snort. And Chris attacked, vaulting over the back of the sofa and grabbing Tom around the middle. '_I_ may be certifiably insane, but_ you_, mate, are going on the floor.'

Adapting quite happily to his new, lower, resting place and leaning comfortably against the edge of the sofa, Tom told himself firmly that he would not laugh. He was highly successful for the first minute. After which, sadly, he couldn't help but look up at Chris. Chris who was now taking up the entire sofa, wearing a expression of almost unbearable smugness. And that just set him off. Tom started to laugh, quietly at first and then, unable to control himself, louder and louder. Chris looked down at him, appearing rather piqued. 'What's so funny, man? I think I won that one.'

Tom managed, between snorts, to choke out, 'Oh my God, Chris. What a comeback.'

'What do you mean?'

Tom sat up and wiped his eyes, and tried out an Australian accent: '_I_ might be insane, but _you_, mate, are going on the floor.' And that set him off again. 'Oh gosh, Chris,' he, well, not _giggled_, more laughed in a manly fashion. 'That was literally the best comeback I have ever heard.'

And then he had to bury his face in a cushion because Chris's unimpressed face was just too funny, and Tom didn't think he could breathe properly anymore.

x

I'd just like to say a big thank you to Dirty Little Half Blood for helping me with the pacing of this chapter, She also gave me loads of really great ideas for the next chapters, which will feature, to name but a few things, the Avengers film, an ill-advised drinking game, and Thor/Loki fanfic. Watch this space. :D  
Thanks so much to everyone who has read, followed, favourite'd and/or reviewed. I appreciate it so much, as this will be my first-ever 'full-length' story. :)  
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